Your Blessing, Mr Abbott?
by huffleclaw22
Summary: Meeting Hannah's father was nothing like Neville had ever anticipated. A glimpse into the harsh reality of the Abbott home after Mrs. Abbott was murdered by Death Eaters, and an extremely soft side of Neville for his Hannah. WARNING: It's a bit depressing. R&R if you like super fluffy fanfics! :)


**a/n: JKR owns all! **

**WARNING: This is SUPER depressing at certain points, but also very fluffy! If you're that type of person...you might cry. I don't know though, because I don't know you. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It had been six months since Neville Longbottom had graduated from Hogwarts. He'd been through a lot that hellish seventh year, starting with the Carrows, and ending with the Final Battle. However, as horrible as his last year had been, there was one good thing that had come out of it; Hannah Abbott, the pretty fair haired Hufflepuff.

They'd grown closer while Dumbledore's Army hid out in the Room of Requirement, and had even shared a cot the night before the Battle of Hogwarts. Neville had liked Hannah way before that, though, he'd liked her since third year but never had the guts to tell her. As it turned out, she'd actually been crushing on him since their fifth year.

Hannah meant the world to him now, and he'd do absolutely anything for her. However, on this particular night, he wasn't quite comfortable with her simple request. He knew he would be a hypocrite if he didn't show up, after dragging her to meet his parents in St. Mungo's and to dinner with his nagging grandmother, but he was a jittery mess.

Hannah had asked him to come to dinner at the Abbott Cottage in Nottingham, where she lived with her father. Neville was terrified that Mr. Abbott wouldn't like him, or wouldn't want to let his only daughter go so easily, especially after what had happened to her mother.

However, every time he expressed this concern, Hannah would either say he wasn't being fair for making her meet his family or she'd tell him there was nothing to worry about. Neville didn't understand what she'd meant when she kept saying "Daddy doesn't talk much." He hoped it meant that this dinner would be as not-awkward as possible.

Neville sighed and changed into a pair of dark blue dress pants, and a yellow and gray argyle sweater with a white dress shirt underneath. He looked at himself in the mirror and combed his dark brown hair back. "Abbott Cottage-Nottingham!" he whispered, apparating on the spot.

He landed at their front door, and knocked gently. While he waited, he fiddled with the flowers he'd brought for Hannah. Finally, a few seconds later, the door opened. Hannah smiled at him. Once again, she'd caused him to be completely lovestruck. Her long and fair honey blonde hair fell perfectly around her sweet face, her bright amber eyes twinkled in the light of the room, and she wore a flowy light pink dress that just reached her knees.

"Hi Neville, please come in," she said, stepping aside. Neville grinned awkwardly and handed her the flowers.

"Hey Hannah, I've missed you," he said, walking inside and taking off his shoes as she shut the door behind him. The first thing he noticed was that her house smelled like fresh fruit. He found it strangely refreshing.

They were standing in her living room, a small room with an orange courderoy couch and a brown leather armchair, and a coffee table. He also noticed that there were many books and pictures on their shelves.

"Soo..." Hannah rocked on her heels. "What type of flowers are these, Mr. Herbology expert?" she asked, admiring the boquet he'd handed her.

"Honking Daffodils, they look like regular daffodils, until you hear them honk," Neville replied with a grin.

"Oh yes, Professor Sprout grew these in the greenhouses!" Hannah remembered with a smile. "I'll put them in some water in the kitchen," she said.

"So er...where's your dad?" Neville asked, shifting awkwardly on his feet as he looked around their living room.

"He's in the kitchen, dinner's nearly ready," Hannah replied, avoiding his gaze. Now she looked a bit nervous herself.

"What's the matter, love?" Neville asked, softly stroking her hair.

"It's just...well, you do remember what I said about my dad not talking much right?" she asked uneasily.

"Yeah?" Neville replied looking confused.

"The truth is he hasn't been the same since what happened to Mum, please don't judge us too harshly when you see what he's become," Hannah said, looking at her bare feet and sliding them awkwardly against the cream colored carpet.

"You're serious? So that's why you told me not to be worried about what he'll think of me or the relationship..." Neville mused, his face flushing bright red.

"Yes...he does talk, but not very much. Mostly he just sleeps, eats, goes to the bathroom, reads the _Prophet _in his chair. He's rather like a baby, I take care of him," Hannah explained, a sad expression across her face.

"Who took care of him when you were away at Hogwarts?" Neville couldn't help but ask.

"Ernie MacMillan's aunt, she lives just down the road," Hannah told him.

Neville suddenly felt a pang of guilt wash over him. There he'd been so worried and nervous about Mr. Abbott's reaction to 'Nevannah', only to find out that Mr. Abbott was basically as helpless as a baby with his poor only daughter having to care for him in such a desperate state.

He reached out and pulled his girlfriend into a warm and comforting embrace, softly kissing the top of her head. "I'm so sorry Hannie, I had no idea..." he mumbled into her hair that smelled like green apples.

"It's alright Nev, you didn't know," Hannah choked into his shoulder. She let out a few sniffles as he held her in his arms, and then collected herself. She pulled away, wiping her eyes, and led him into the kitchen.

"Hello," Neville said, seeing Hannah's father at the table. Mr. Abbott looked to be no older than 42. He had a full head of shaggy grayish blonde hair, and he wore gold spectacles over his dark gray eyes. He didn't look at them as they entered the room, as his gaze was fixed on the opposite wall.

On said wall hung a picture of a lady with light brown hair and bright amber eyes, who looked to be about 39 years old. Hannah noticed Neville looking. "That was my Mum, Helen," she whispered. Neville nodded.

"Neville, this is my daddy, Daniel Abbott. Daddy, this is Neville Longbottom, my boyfriend," Hannah introduced them.

"Nice boy Hannah. Firewhiskey," Mr. Abbott said, glancing briefly at Neville before pointing to the alcohol cabinet.

"No Daddy, you've had enough wizard booze today. I'll get you water," Hannah replied, filling a water glass instead and placing it in front of him.

It appeared that Hannah had already filled the table with some side dishes, they were just waiting for the ham to be done cooking. Neville looked over at his girlfriend. "So, how can I tell if he likes me or not?" he whispered.

Hannah smiled sadly. "He said 'nice boy Hannah', meaning he approves," she explained.

"Would you like any help with the ham?" Neville asked her.

"No thank you, just sit and relax, it's nearly cooked anyways," Hannah said as she went over to the oven.

Neville twiddled his thumbs and looked at Mr. Abbott. He knew the man didn't talk much, but he figured it would make Hannah happy if he at least tried to get him to talk a bit more. "Do you like Quidditch, Sir?" he asked.

Mr. Abbott didn't look at him. "Puddlemere," he said, sipping his water.

"Like, Puddlemere United?" Neville pushed.

"Quidditch," Mr. Abbott nodded.

"Hannah tells me you were in Hufflepuff just like she was when you went to Hogwarts, was the Hufflepuff team any good while you were there?" Neville asked.

"House cup," Mr. Abbott said.

"Really? That's great!" Neville said, trying to urge the older man on.

"Daddy played for Hufflepuff in his sixth year in 1972, they won one time, and I think it was Gryffindor all the other times throughout the seventies," Hannah explained.

"That's awesome," Neville grinned.

"Ham," Mr. Abbott spoke up suddenly, snapping his gaze from the wall to his daughter. "Firewhiskey," he said.

"It's almost done Daddy, and no more Firewhiskey tonight, you've had enough," Hannah told him sternly.

Mr. Abbott didn't say anything else, and turned back to the picture of his late wife on the wall. Neville tried again. "So...where do you work, Sir?" he asked curiously.

This time, Mr. Abbott either didn't hear him or just chose not to respond. "He doesn't work anymore, whatever I earn at The Leaky Cauldron I bring home," Hannah interjected, knowing her father wouldn't answer.

Neville nodded, realizing just how hard this situation was on poor Hannah. "I see," he said, scratching behind his ear awkwardly.

"FIREWHISKEY!" Mr. Abbott yelled suddenly, knocking his glass of water all over himself before it crashed into pieces on the floor.

"Daddy! No!" Hannah snapped tiredly, rushing over and pointing her wand at the broken glass on the floor. She said a quick _Reparo. _

"Neville could you grab the ham while I get him ready to eat?" Hannah asked, looking pleadingly at her boyfriend.

"Of course love," Neville said, flashing her a soft smile saying he knew how she felt. He felt the exact same way seeing his parents helplessly insane in St. Mungo's.

As he took the delicious smelling meat out of the oven, he watched sadly as Hannah put a bib on her father and sat down beside him. "Here we go," he said, placing the ham on the table.

Hannah gave him a watery smile and cut a nice piece for all of them. "All the side dishes are on the table, take what you want," she said.

Neville nodded and took a spoonful of stuffing and greenbeans to have with his ham. He took a bite and smied at his girlfriend. "This is great Hannie, how'd you learn to cook like this?" he asked.

"I had to," Hannah replied, feeding her father a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

"It's good," Neville said, trying to make her feel even the slightest bit happy.

"Thanks," Hannah sniffled, sliding her father's water glass closer so he could grip it.

They ate in silence for the rest of the meal. After dinner, Hannah took her father's bib off, and sent him upstairs for bed. Nevile watched as Mr. Abbott slowly but surely crept upstairs, he looked like a lost soul wandering around for some sort of closure that he'd never find.

"Will he be alright on his own up there?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, he reads the _Prophet _for a bit, takes a hot shower, and then waits for me to help him into his pajamas," Hannah explained.

"Oh," Neville nodded.

"Here I'll clean off the dishes," Hannah said, absent mindedly clearing the table even though Neville was still eating. He didn't say anything though, because he knew she was completely out of it.

"I know this is hard for you," Neville said after a few seconds, getting up and walking over to the sink. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"It makes me sad that I can't help him," Hannah said quietly. "I just want my daddy back..." she sniffed.

"I know love, I know," Neville murmured, rocking back in forth with her in his arms.

"Will he ever come back Nevvie? I can't just do this for the rest of my life, but I'd hate to just send him off somewhere," Hannah whispered.

"Just give him some more time, let him grieve in his own way," Neville told her softly.

"Yes but what about _us_? Moving into that flat in London we were looking at, getting married, having children of our own...I love my Daddy, I won't just leave him behind like this..." Hannah whimpered.

"Hey, if worse comes to worse, we'll bring him with. I'm flexible Hannah, you know that, I'd do anything to make your life easier," Neville reassured her.

"I know, and that's why I love you so much," Hannah smiled, brushing her nose against his.

"I love you more," Neville grinned, pressing his lips forcefully into hers.


End file.
